JOAN

It hurts that my intentions are being doubted, but this is only natural. The General doesn't know me well, and he has a job to do. He has to protect the camp.

I slowly raise the letter and the Entertainer smirks.

Will I ever have privacy here? Will my word ever be trusted, or will I forever remain the shady alien that was dropped on this planet?

The General latches onto the letter, but I cling onto it even as he tugs.

"Joan..." he warns.

"Such insolence," an onlooker whispers.

That triggers something in The General, because he pulls the letter from my grip harshly.

"We must punish her," someone suggests.

"Lift a finger and I'll leave you limbless, just like Terson!" he booms.

Everyone shrinks back, but I stagger forward when he starts reading. I feeling violated as my thoughts are consumed by the wrong man. The words in that letter were meant for my friend, not my boss.

He reads line after line, his expression hardening with every word he consumes. When he finishes reading, something scarier than rage crosses his expression. Blankness. He shoes no blatant reaction to the words I sent to Malik.

He lowers the letter and folds it back up.

"It is a personal letter. There is no espionage here," he explains to everyone. "You're all dismissed. Get back to work."

He walks away, and I'm left to wonder where I belong anymore. I have no job, no tent. All I have is The General's side.

I walk after him with my head low and my eyes set on the letter he's gripping in a chokehold. Back in the tent, he throws the thing on his work desk and faces me. I feel like I'm in a spotlight and the audience is a titan.

"You cannot do that," he says, voice gravely. "You cannot defy me in front of camp, Joan. When I give a command, you must obey."

I know I hesitated when he demanded the letter. Any other camp member would have dropped to their knees and complied, but I've gotten comfortable with this special treatment of me.

"They will start expecting the same treatment I give you if they see I let you get away with most things. I can't have a loss of organization among the ranks. We work best when we know our places. Uncertainty causes disorder. Disorder causes mutiny."

I don't like it, but it makes sense. There's order, respect, and clear boundaries here at camp. I'm just the oddball that never checks the right boxes as everyone else.

"I will try my best to respect order. I just got lost in my emotions for a second," I tell him. I know it's in my best interest to listen to his commands, because he knows more about leading a crowd than I ever will. He's a protector.

"What you need to do is stop having this effect on me." He rakes a thick hand through his hair and huffs with frustration. He sits on the bed, legs open, and extends a hand.

"Come here."

He's out of whack, disoriented. He needs me.

My feet inch closer, not because he still intimidates me to the point that I want to please him, but because it's flattering that this imposing man considers me peace.

I slip my hand into his gingerly, and he pulls me so I fall on his lap. A grunt of contentment rumbles through him. He sets one hand on my knees, and another at my hip.

"About Malik..."

"What about him?" he snaps.

"You can't take him away," I whisper.

"What?"

I try to find a backbone. For years, I've been spineless, but now I want to dare for more.

With The General possessively gripping my hip, I look up at him— at War; the man who never gets told no, who's made of steel but stitched with velvet. His weapon belt digs into my thighs. It's a subtle reminder that I'm atop a warrior. The sharp knives are shadowed by the thick ropes of cock I feel at my ass. He's turned on. Being wrapped by him is overwhelming, but I find the will to focus on myself.

"Malik is my friend," I tell him. "I may be an alien, but I'm no longer a slave. I deserve the right to talk with who I want to. I'm lonely without him."

His frown intensifies. "I brought you the rodent so you may have company."

"I'm thankful, but it's not the same. Yippy can't speak."

"But I can. I am here often."

"No, you're not. You go to work." I touch his hand because with every word, he grips me tighter. Our bellies are pressed together, and I'm struggling to breathe.

He relaxes his hold reluctantly.

"So..." I push.

"You have a point," he grinds out. "But I am not submissive enough to like sharing."

"You share Entertainers with your men."

"Entertainers are the equivalent of medicine. They are needed, not wanted."

Silence does its thing until he looks away from me and mutters, "I will think about it. I will try, but it is difficult. I can't focus when I see him with you. My distraction endangers the camp."

Do I mean this much to him?

I think about raising my arms to embrace him in gratitude, but he shifts me aside and stands up, leaving me on the bed.

His back is streaked in mud from when he fell to catch me. He heads for the tub and drops his weapon belt and pants on the way. I lower my gaze, but don't look away from his nude back.

The water in the tub is old and cold, but he still sinks into it and looks at me expectantly.

"You said you wanted to start going back to work, didn't you? Here is your first task."

Oh. He wants me to get his back?

"Right. Okay."

I walk to him, eyes on his, and kneel beside the tub. I take the clean rag folded over the edge, looking anywhere but the front of him, and I bring it to his back along with the cleaning oils.

I scrub gently.

"I can barely feel you."

Of course he doesn't. His back is thick with muscles and scars.

I scrub harder, placing one hand on his shoulder as I wash away every bit of dirt. His breathing intensifies, and his arms move in front of him.

Is he... is he masturbating?!

I pause.

"You haven't finished yet, Joan."

I continue rubbing his back, embarrassed, as I kneel beside him and tend to his skin. My thighs are smashed together, but not tight enough to suffocate the small fire burning below me.

My eyes jerk from his back to his shoulder. His groin is right there. I could peek right now, and...

The lewd image that awaits me makes me squeal like a startled little piglet. He's pumping his scarred hands hard, one hand grasping each cock. They're both so long that the water can't submerge them.

I pull away and my knees sip on what I'm convinced is a pool of my own wetness.

His hands leave his cocks and find my waist. He swings me into the tub, making me straddle him in shock.

He grins. "Where are you going? You haven't gotten my front yet. Start scrubbing, because it is especially dirty."

It truly is dirty. A sheen of pre-cum sparkles all over it.

"Are- are you serious?"

"I always mean what I say."

"Oh..."

Ignore the dicks below you. Ignore them. Ignore them!

How can I?

My dress is soaked and my entrance is sitting atop two dicks eager to fill me.

I hang my head as I bring the rag to his front, and senselessly scrub at his right shoulder for what feels like forever.

"Joan."

"Yes?" I reply without looking at him.

"My shoulder is clean. You can move lower."

"Okay."

I scrub at his strong pectoral for another minute.

"Lower," he whispers.

My hand is jerky when I reach his abs. He's so wide that I don't think I'll ever finish exploring him.

The man lunges and hugs me to his chest. I feel hot breath and teeth nipping at my ear when he declares, "I could come by just looking at you."

That makes two of us. I'm so turned on that the slightest bit of friction will set me off.

"General."

The call of a Master snaps our trance.

The General stands, lifts me out of the tub, and marches to the bed with his cocks bobbing. He wraps a blanket around me and goes outside butt-naked and dicks arched.

"What is it?" He doesn't sound happy to have been disrupted.

"There is a scuffle at the perimeter."

"Gather twenty men," he commands. "We will go check the situation."

"Should I gather twenty-one Entertainers?" the Masker asks.

Dread drenches me. He wants twenty-one entertainers to prepare the men for battle by sending them into the Enraged state. The General needs to fuck a woman, and he won't touch me.

Green spreads low in my belly.

I don't want him to enjoy another woman's body as I'm left in his tent, sexually frustrated, lonely, and empty.

"Yes," I hear the General answer. "Gather them."